Dárvon ...
Memory of History '' … '' '' '' “M-Mother.. Why is father quiet?” '' '' … '' '“..Mom...? Dad…? Please...” '' Stripped of hope, the girl peered eagerly at the two figures on the table. She wanted them to talk, say sweet soothing words. Silence was their only gift. If tears had been available, she’d cry. But the feeling of tears being shed was long forgotten. Each figure gazed at her, their faces baring nothing more then a blank expression. Dinner was set on the table; she believed it to be toast. Or...? What was toast again? Everything was difficult to remember, the smell of the room without walls. The smile put on their blank faces. ‘Did they smile?’ ‘Yes, I think they did’. Even small details of clothing or decoration around the room were gone, missing from view. There was pain, constant pain. ‘Had it been minutes or hours sitting across these figures?’ ‘Am I asleep?’ Her questions wandered between reality and fiction. “Dad…!” ‘Did he just move?’ ‘Was there more then his ever distant and empty eyes?’ Even the weakest spark of hope died out, nothing moved… She only blinked once. Again she desperately tried to speak with them, her voice hesitant and afraid. “Please... Say something… Please...” In the midst of lost time, the sounds of shouts pared with metal grinding against metal filled her head like a storm of small needles. To this, her body twitched. The arms and legs shaking as her breathing turned unsteady. Joined to the storm in her mind, nerves shouted of pain and agony. Slowly, she made an attempt to open her eyes but it was difficult, the eyelids turned heavy, as if glued shut with a dried sticky liquid. Her mouth opened to speak, but besides the sounds of ragged breathing nothing came out. Every muscle in her body ached when an attempt was made to sit up; it needed so much effort. The legs twitched again, unable to be moved properly and with a slight yelp she fell down against the cold, stone floor. Moments of recovery were needed; a line of red liquid ran down from behind her ear. Lying on her back, with her arms spread she peered at the sky. At least, she imagined it to be the sky, for real, nothing more then solid dark stone. How long had it been? A month? A year? She was unable to remember it clearly; every memory was such a mess. She tried to think back of how she got here, it was on a warm day long ago. Quickly the thought turned to chaos, short flashes about the things that happened to her. The blood stained needles, the rusted iron chains, the vials being emptied into her body and the ever black shadow licking the skin. Experiment after experiment, as he called it. Just a mere fraction of what happened to her could be remembered. If only… she could sleep. Slowly, her eyes closed again. A pulsing headache grew strong as broken memories fell further apart. '' '… '' '' '“Twelve…” '' '' '“Seventeen…” '' '' ''“Nine…” '' ' Her eyes widened, her heart skipped a beat. Staring at the dark ceiling she listened to a voice shouting numbers. The same as before, a heavy voice as echo in the long stone hallway, slightly muffled by iron. As the numbers continued her heartbeat became stronger, and faster. Slight gasps for air filled her body with a stinging pain, as if the lungs consisted of broken glass. “Six… Eleven…” The numbers stopped. Was it over? Following the sharp sounds of large metal objects being moved filled her head with dreadful visions. A door opening, a boy or girl screaming, crying and jumping up to fight their captor. Her visions were clear, for so long she saw how men, woman and children got dragged out of their cells, tied down onto a cart and eventually moved to… ‘Him’. This time, she was safe. The number on her door wasn’t called for, he didn’t need her. Didn’t want her. The echoes of mixed screams and laughter faded in the distance. Ragged, quick breathing turned to steady inhales of air. Heavy forced pulses of the heart turned slow and weak. If any memory of smiling existed in her mind, her lips would have curled to a smile of great relief. But all she could do was soothe the pain in her body with the idea of being left alone for now. In short moments she passed to the realm of sleep, a place where the empty figures would grant her rest. Violently her moment was disturbed; the heavy lock on her door made three clicking sounds before faint candle-light revealed her room. A room made only of stone, scratches of nails carves into solid rock, small red stains of blood over the floor. ‘No, the number wasn’t called for, they didn’t need me! Why! No please!’ In reaction she crawled to the far wall in the room. Heavy spikes of pain stung into her arms and legs, all ignored. She wanted to get away. Desperately pushing herself up against the far wall, two dark figures entered the room. For long being kept in darkness, she was blinded by candlelight. ‘No please! No!’ Her words begged for mercy. Every time she spoke of this, begged even offered herself in exchange not to be taken away. Despite her cries for mercy, both figures showed no pity or remorse. Her arms touched by solid cold metal. Just like before, all those times before. They’d grab her; pull her out of the room. Without the care of she being hurt or not, they always threw her onto a large cart, and tie down her wrists and ankles against it. Her own cries for mercy, help and hope echoed along the hallway. Maybe someone… Anyone… could save her. The only replies were faint screams of others. The two figures gave no notice, they never did. Not even a single word passed their lips. As her eyes got used to the faint candle-light she felt how the cart moved along many large iron doors. Few opened, others closed. She saw the men walking aside her, both covered with large hoods and dark robes. ‘Not again… Not again…’Whimpers left her raged breathing, the body twitching of pain as the cart moved forward. She closed her eyes, unwilling to see where the cart halted. The image of herself dying wandered her broken mind, perhaps a thought of salvation, or just a thought of escape. A single tear ran down her cheek, turning to a mixture of salt water, sweat and blood once it reached the neck. Footsteps moved away, slow steps over solid stone. Her breathing was still rampart, short gasps compensating against her hastened heartbeat. She whimpered small words that none could hear. From known sounds, few metal objects were placed on a metal table. Five… Six… Seven. Without realising it she started to count the sounds, and try to identify them. Even with her eyes closed, she knew exactly where the cart stood. The cart, with her tied on top. There was preparation around her, some voices, some objects being moved. Faint whispers joined with quick footsteps. There must have been three people around her. At a sudden moment all turned quiet. Without the strength to resist she felt how a cold shiver ran along the spine. Her breathing quickened once heavy footsteps passed over the cold, stone floor. Joined to the steps, the sounds of chains being dragged over rock followed. There could only be one. ‘Him’. Part of her wanted to open the eyes, and witness him again, the other part wanted to remain in darkness, afraid to bare witness. All this only caused a pulsing headache. Closer and closer the footsteps became louder, the echo left behind, struck bone and nerve. Tied down on her cart she started to struggle in panic and growing fear. ‘Not him, please not him! Anyone but him!’ In moments of letting out faint whimpers she missed concentration, loosing track to all that happened around her. “Wake up my child, it is still early.” '' The touch of his hand against a cheek made her eyes open in reaction. For her, time stopped. Between good and evil she stared into the eyes of her captor. Her thoughts drowned into an ocean of misery and pain, a twisting spire of dreadful memories presented themselves as she looked deep into the pitch-black centre of his dark-green eyes. The warm touch on her cheek, and the friendly smile set on his lips. If any, none would ever suspect him for what he did. As the touch to her cheek was lost, he stood up straight, keeping his smile presented for all to see. She tried to move, break free. But the leather straps keeping her pinned were strong, or she was just too weak. ‘Mercy… Please… I don’t…’ ''“‘Fel’, my dear… Come take a look who joined us today.” ‘Fel… F-Fel… No!’ With every bit of last strength left in her pained body she tried to move, struggling heavy to break free from confinement. Tears being forced out of her eyes, a heart beating of panic. Between gasps and faint yelps of ‘Please’ and ‘No’ she moaned weakly, not of pain. Oh no, despite the wounds on and inside her body all pain had left her. Pain replaced by a gentile warm feeling, and a weak lustful need to listen. Listen to a faint unknown whisper carried in the air; it was as soothing as it was fearful. Twitching, shaking violent to find the will to resist words of seduction, her eyes widened when the man known as her captor received company of a woman. Long black locks of hair wandered down over her shoulders. Dressed in a long dark dress that kept her cleavage, arms, back and one of her legs exposed to view. On the front, a heart-shaped gap exposed her flat, smooth stomach. Amber-gold eyes paired with blood red lips made her looks beautiful. A perfect sight of lust and temptation. With one hand set on his shoulder, the woman looked at him with a faint blush covering the cheeks. He turned to see her, grant a smile to the most delighted appearance aside him. With a quick blink she looked away, the blush turning bright. ‘M-Master…’ He nodded once, his smile ever satisfied. Before turning his view on the woman tied down on the cart again he brushed a palm over the blushing woman’s cheek, just once with a gentile and light touch. On such a touch she let out a faint obedient coo, acknowledging the attention granted her. ‘P-Please... I’ve been here for so long... I C-can’t…’ Words forced out as whimper. Tears mixing with sweat and blood as they ran down over her cheeks. One part of her screamed out in pain from fear, exhaustion and desperation, the other part felt warm and tender as if yearning to let this man have his way with her. But she knew better. The whispers tried to seduce her mind, pull her away from reality and let her believe she could only love her captor for what he did. The whispers came from the woman standing next to him, the beautiful lady with raven black hair. A magical spell of seduction made of words alone. He reached out, carefully setting his fingertips against the tear covered cheeks, gently wiping her red tears away. “Hush, don’t cry my dear, it will be better this time… I promise.” His voice was warm and soothing, a voice expected from a gentleman. She sniffed, and tried to turn her head away from his hand. But for some reason her body didn’t listen, the touch of soft cloth from his glove was such a wanted feeling. Even after his words and sight of his smile made pain fade away. Was she caught up by the whispers? Or was this something her body yearned for? More questions pulled her headache to a next level. Once her cheeks had been brushed dry, he spoke again… “My dear, I am going to use you today… Will you allow me?” ‘N-No… No… NOOOO!’ Her mouth opened to speak, but the words that echoed into her head didn’t pass the lips. ‘Say No, I have to… Say it! Please! Say it!’ Just a few faint chocking sounds left her throat. She fought herself, forcing her body to answer him. But it was so warm, and his smile so ever charming. There was no more pain. The seducing whispers turned stronger, breaking past the little resistance present. There, pinned down on an iron cart she looked at him with an eager gaze in her eyes. New tears formed, and against her will she spoke to him with a low tone… “Y-Yes…” '' '' “As you wish my dear…” Nodding once, he stood up, indicating the hooded men to commence. She was still looking at him, crying. The hooded men aside her started to grab things from nearby tables, just as her shirt was ripped open to expose the stomach. There was no resistance from her, just like her answer, she allowed it. ‘Come dear ‘Fel’ no more of this.’ Her revealed a cruel grin before turning away, offering his company an arm before walking off. Blinking her eyes, she realised what just happened, and even before she could move, three large syringes penetrated skin and flesh. She screamed, dear god she screamed with all her effort. If it was anywhere on the outside, an army would come running at such a woman’s scream of terrible defeat. At every odd moment she took a deep ragged breath, only to rage out another scream as her blood veins were being filled with a dark purple liquid. The uncontrolled shaking of her body caused even more pain, ripping old wounds open again. Her heart succumbed from trying to pump this mixture of blood and purple liquid trough her body. As if she burned up from the inside she continued to scream. For help or death, whatever could relief her from this coil of endless suffering. In the end the body and mind surrendered, leaving her motionless. ‘F-Father…’ A last word before her eyes closed. The hooded men continued their work, extracting small bits of blood from her body, exposing her skin to violent shadow magic to test any response from the liquid within. She didn’t feel any of it anymore. All this torment and the view of her captor was just too much, casting her senses unconscious. “M-Master…?” Walking trough one of the long hallways they both stopped for a moment. She kept her arms wrapped around one of his. Slightly hesitant she looked at him, amber-gold eyes begging for a smile. He turned to take witness of her beauty. “Yes ‘Fel’?” '' '' “Will she be hurt…?” '' '' “Of course not my dear…” Category:Alliance Category:Alliance Characters Category:Humans Category:Warlocks